A Gift from a Butterfly
by KathyG
Summary: I have not written a Zorro story in years; however, because this is the month of Zorro's 100th anniversary, I have decided to write a new one for the first time in a long time. In this gap-filler to my pre-Zorro story, "Lover of Horses" (which is also posted here), a very young and superstitious Felipe tries to save the life of a visiting caballero's baby.


**A Gift from a Butterfly**

**By KathyG**

**I have not written a Zorro story in years; however, because this is the month of Zorro's 100****th**** anniversary, I have decided to write a new one for the first time in a long time. In this gap-filler to my pre-Zorro story, "Lover of Horses," Felipe tries to save the life of a visiting **_**caballero's**_** baby by getting rid of a butterfly.**

Felipe looked up at Don Diego and Don Alejandro for a long moment, as he sat cross-legged on the hard, white marble floor in the corner of the drawing room next to the front entrance. Then he gazed at the strange _caballero_ and his wife and baby, as well as the baby's nurse. They had arrived for a visit just minutes before, and Felipe had to remain on duty in case he was needed, and so he was sitting in the corner of the drawing room. Since he was deaf, he could not hear what the visiting _don_ was saying, and he was not positioned so that he could read the _caballero's _lips. Don Rafael, Don Diego's cousin whom Felipe had met when he had come down from Santa Barbara to visit the de la Vegas a few days before, sat on the couch next to Don Diego, and Don Alejandro reclined in an armchair. The other grownups were seated on the couches and chairs in the drawing room, watching the _caballero_ and nodding their heads as he spoke. More than once, the _do__ñ__a_ said something that Felipe couldn't understand from where he was sitting. None of them were paying any attention to him. Once, the _caballero_ drew a silk handkerchief out of his left jacket sleeve and blew his nose, and then stuffed it back into his pocket. The _do__ñ__a_ held aloft a rose-patterned pink silk fan as she participated in the conversation.

Since it was early afternoon, sunlight poured through the drawing-room window, forming rectangles of light on the floor. Señor Spencer, Don Diego's tutor, was in his office on the other side of the _hacienda_, going over Diego's written work from that morning.

With a shrug, Felipe turned toward the baby, who lay in her nursemaid's lap. She was wearing an outfit made of a material which Felipe had learned was called satin. It looked shiny, and its color was pink. The baby girl was waving her little hands around as she lay in her nurse's arms. From his vantage point, though, Felipe could not see her face.

_I wish I knew what he was saying,_ Felipe thought, biting his lower lip as he turned his gaze back toward the visiting _caballero_. Ever since the little boy had lost his speech and his hearing in the battle that had killed his parents back in August, he had been shut out from a world he had never thought about before his loss. He could no longer hear people talking, birds singing, guitars and mandolins being played, doors opening and closing, or donkeys braying. He could not hear anyone coming up behind him. He could not hear the piano when Don Diego or Don Alejandro played it, and since he had never heard a piano being played before he had lost his hearing, he could not hear it in his mind's ear as he could a guitar or a mandolin. In fact, he could hear absolutely nothing whatsoever. He lived in a totally soundless world, completely silent. Only the vibrations that he felt beneath his feet told him when something or someone was coming from behind him. Nor could he make any sounds of his own with his voice. He was forced to use his hands to speak, and to watch people's lips to know what they were saying.

A movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention. He raised his head to notice a butterfly perched on the edge of the piano, slowly raising and lowering its wings.

Panic surged in the child's heart. That butterfly was going to take the baby's soul if he didn't get it out fast! As he leaped to his feet and raced toward it, his sandals making no sound that he could hear as he ran, the butterfly flew into the air and into the library. Felipe darted after it, trying to grab it as it kept flying out of his reach. He had to catch it and get it out of the _hacienda_ before it was too late!

**ZZZZZZZ**

"Diego?" Doña Catalina looked at Don Diego curiously, and then looked at Felipe and then back at Diego. "What on earth is that _muchacho_ doing?"

She and the other adults all gaped at Felipe frantically chasing after the butterfly and making repeated attempts to snatch it. Diego stared at his houseboy, trying to make sense of what Felipe was doing. After a moment, Don Rafael chuckled.

"He's just trying to save your baby's life, Doña Catalina," he said, amusement etching his face.

Rolling her eyes, the lady shook her head. "What possible threat could a butterfly pose to my daughter?"

"None." Rafael smiled. "I know that, and you know that. We all know that. But there's a superstition among the Mexican peasantry that if a butterfly comes into a house where there's a baby, it will steal the baby's soul. Apparently, Felipe is afraid that the butterfly will steal your baby's soul if he does not get it out of the _hacienda_ quickly."

The others chuckled. Diego leaned back in his chair, the soft cushion pressed underneath. _I'm going to have to teach Felipe science when I return from Madrid,_ he thought. _A good science education will cure him of the superstitions he learned from his parents and the other peasants in his home region._

A few minutes later, Felipe finally managed to grab the butterfly. He raced toward the front door, threw it open, and threw the butterfly out the door. Then he slammed it. "No doubt, he's trying to prevent the butterfly from coming back in," Diego commented.

Alejandro nodded agreement. "No doubt." Don Sebastian and Doña Catalina exchanged amused smiles.

Felipe darted toward the baby, his eyes wide and etched with fear, and came to a sudden halt, staring down at her. Looking amused, the nursemaid held the baby out so that Felipe could see her. As the baby held up her head and waved her pudgy hands, Felipe relaxed and turned toward Don Diego.

"Yes, Felipe, the baby is safe," Diego assured him. "In truth, though, she was never in any real danger."

Felipe shook his head. Looking apprehensive, he pointed at the baby, made a fluttering motion with his hands, pointed toward the door, and then pointed at the baby a second time.

"Your parents believed that a butterfly can steal a baby's soul, didn't they?" Diego asked him gently. Felipe nodded as he approached his _patr__ó__ns_. "Felipe, we will talk about that one day soon, you and I, but for now, know this: butterflies pose no threat to babies or anybody else. It does you credit, though, that you fought so hard to keep her safe."

"Yes, it does, and even though it wasn't really necessary, it was good of you to want to help protect her," Don Alejandro added. "Thank you, Felipe."

The little boy smiled, and the aged _don_ leaned forward and patted him on the shoulder. Then the adults resumed their conversation as Felipe returned to sit down in the corner of the drawing room and watch them once more; he crossed his legs and scratched his lower arm. Somehow, he felt more like he belonged in his new home.

**ZZZZZZZ**

**Note****: Years ago, I read in a nonfiction book that in Mexico, there's a superstition among peasants that butterflies can steal the souls of babies if they fly into a house. Unfortunately, I cannot remember the name of that book or its author, so I cannot refer anyone to it.**

**©2019, KathyG**

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